


Things that Go Bump in the Night

by rrc



Series: The Dearly Departed [1]
Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, GCZC, Gen, Ghost Cop Zombie Cop, Ghost Cop Zombie Cop AU, Horror, Just not the permanent kind, Major character death - Freeform, Past Character Death, Poltergeists, Post-Canon, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-29 19:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrc/pseuds/rrc
Summary: Business can’t sleep. Things keep moving around in his house.Warnings:Major Character Death (don’t worry, they come back [ha ha]), …ghost violence?, a few swears, some brief speak of gory things, nothing in detail.





	Things that Go Bump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Zombie and Ghost Idea](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/290016) by Various. 



> So I actually wrote this in 2014 but I never could figure out how to post it or if I would expand the story or not. I guess at least one or those questions is now answered? Ha ha...
> 
> If you wanna see some art/fan art for this fic and the AU its from, check out the series page.

Business’s eyes flickered around the room. It was dark, there was little to see. What was he looking for?

 / _ERRRCHHH/_

Whatever the hell was making that noise.

God, he’d never been this tired. His eyes were weights and his fingers didn’t move right when he wanted them too. His vision blurred intermittently. He couldn’t think. But he couldn’t force his body out of panic mode.

_/EHRRRRRCCHHHH/_

GOD AGAIN

He thought it was rats at first. A draft. A creaking house.

Not any more.

He wrapped himself in blankets, twisting until it hurt. As though whatever was out there could be held back by thin sheets of fabric, costly and tasteful though they were.

He was tempted to just fuck it all and scream “SHUT THE FUCK UP I NEED TO SLEEP DO YOU KNOW WHO THE HELL I AM??!?!” but every new instance of the sound made his blood chill and his heart stop and this image of his chest ripped open and his expensive silk blankets spattered with his blood turn over and over in his mind…

So he stayed quiet.

_/EEEEEEEERRRRCCCHHHHHHH/_

OH GOD

OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOD

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT

He pulled at his hair. A week like this. A bloody week.

No. he could do this. Ignore it. He was bigger than that. Bigger than just a little noise.

Just a little chill in the air.

Just a little thing going missing now and again.

 …

He bolted and reached for the phone on his nightstand. He needed help. Fast.

He didn’t know who to call. He needed an expert, but he also needed someone who wouldn’t think he was crazy and then blab it to whoever they felt like. He really didn’t need the headlines “FORMER MAYOR AND CEO OF OCTAN FINALLY LOSES HIS SHIT AFTER TAKOS TUESDAY FIASCO” plastering the newspapers and the TV and internet, no siree, no thank you.

He thought about it. He had some people who were…not exactly close, but at least tolerated him.

He went back and forth in his head. 

Aw, fuck it, he’d just call Brickowski.

He could stay with him for a while, at least until they got someone who knew what to do about this little…problem…

He dialed, fingers so slow and shaky he had to do it three times. 

He turned on the light and kept it on. it was so comforting, so soothing…

Geez, he felt like a baby.

Aww, a little noise bothering you Busy? Little bumps in the night giving you a scare?

Ugh.

He heard the dial tone. Thought about Emmet’s teeny tiny apartment.

And Wyldestyle, or whatever the hell she was calling herself these days.    

Was it worth it? 

_/EEEEEEERRRRRCCCCCHHHHHHHH/_

“Yes, hello there Brickowski, this is Business calling.” He said in the sweetest, most persuasive voice he could muster in this state. The phone shook in his hand, so he pressed it into his ear all the way.

“Look pal, I know it’s late and you’re busy and stuff, but if it’s not too much trouble…”

“Awwwww, having some sleeping problems, Business?" 

He froze. Everything stopped. His circulation, his thoughts, his breathing, time itself.

All frosted over, cold, cold, cold.

That voice… THAT VOICE

"H-h-who is this?” he finally said. no, it’s gotta be a joke, some sick joke…

“Who do yah / _think_ /?”

He yelped and dropped the phone. / _shit shit SHIT_ /

 Oh god, oh god.

Quaking and stricken with terror, he retreated far into his bed, as far away from the phone as possible, and covered himself with sheets. 

No no no no NO

It took a long time before he had the courage to move again. He let go of his breath, realizing he had been holding it, and laughed weakly.

Ha ha ha, no way…

He picked up the phone, wondering who it was. Metalbeard? That old scallywag. Wyldestyle? Pretty cruel, not really her style (he giggled at the pun), but maybe…

He straightened himself and took a breath. He laughed again.  “ok, seriously, / _very_ / funny whoever you are-”

“Drop that phone again and you’ll regret it.”

His eyes got so wide he was sure they would rip from his head. He’d heard that rough, sweet growl turned into a quiet response, a calm stating of reports and facts, a soft, whimpering request for mercy, but never, ever had that voice been turned so vicious against him. So low and thick and full of teeth and spit and only partially held back / _power_ /. He had heard that voice, seen it in action, crumpling criminals and master builders in interrogations. Never had he felt the brunt of it.

Being on the receiving end was terrifying.   

He knew that threat had meaning. He gulped and whispered hoarsely. “Bad Cop.” He could barely say his name. “What do you want?”

The voice on the other end laughed. “What do I want? WHAT DO I / _WANT_ /?”

A roaring cacophony filled the room as things were thrown from shelves and book cases. The windows and doors opened and closed until Business was sure they would fall from their hinges. Things shook and smashed and shrieked as they were pulled apart by some unseen but potent force.    

Business screamed and sobbed as his room was covered with debris, many flying objects almost hitting him, a few actually landing some blows.

And suddenly the room was still, the attack ending with one single book falling off of a bookcase and hitting the floor with a thud.

Business was curled into a little whimpering ball. He kept the phone to his ear, held on for dear life, even though he was crying and he was sure Bad Cop could hear it. His arm was shaking so bad he used his other to hold it in place, squeezing the metal and plastic edge with white knuckles, pressing into his head until it was digging it into his skin. He bit his lip but all he got was a welling of blood and sobs finding their way out in spite of it.

And then the voice in his ear returned. It was still Bad Cop’s voice, but it was a sound that was no longer human.

It was rage and hatred incarnate.

“I wanna watch you / _BURN/_.


End file.
